Servant
by lost-in-elysium
Summary: Edmund convinces Lucy to play a game to get her do whatever he wants...but who will get the last laugh? One-shot.


**Servant**

 **A Chronicles of Narnia Fanfiction**

 **Disclaimer:** We own nothing!

 **Summary:** Edmund convinces Lucy to play a game to get her do whatever he wants...but who will get the last laugh? One-shot.

 **A/N:** We own nothing! We apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors in advance. Also, this is supposed to be humor. Hopefully we'll get a laugh out of you, but a chuckle or smile will do!

* * *

Gray skies and rain hadn't deterred Mum and Susan from grocery shopping or Dad and Peter from hitting the books at the library to study for the eldest's upcoming exam. The two youngest Pevensie children were left home alone, deemed mature enough to watch after themselves.

They weren't.

"I'm _soooo bored."_ Lucy lay draped over the arm of the settee, eyes burning from staring at the ceiling for hours. As much as she detested shopping in any way, shape or form, the prospect of accompanying her mother and sister to the market had slowly but surely gained appeal.

Edmund bolted upright, a light bulb illuminating over his head. "I have an idea. How about we play _king and servant_?"

Lucy gazed at him upside down. "How do we play that?"

"It's quite simple. I tell you what to do, and you do as I say."

Rolling over, she rested her chin on her hand, frowning. "That doesn't sound fun."

"How will you know unless you try?"

"Fine...But must _I_ be the servant?"

"Of course, dummy! The game is called _king_ and servant. Girls can't be kings. Besides, _I_ decide who plays who because _I_ thought of the game," he said in a patronizing tone, his smirk reminding Lucy who was older, smarter, and, in all regards, _superior._ Her hand itched to smack it off.

Instead, she acceded to his perverse logic with a nod. "Okay."

"Good. Let's begin. Servant, prop my feet up on that ottoman over there." He jutted his chin toward it. Lucy shoved it across the room then stood, panting, arms akimbo.

"What are you standing there for?" Edmund snapped, glaring.

"Aren't you going to lift your legs up?"

"I _could_ , but don't want to. Do it for me."

Lucy huffed. " _Fiiiiine."_ Kneeling beside him, she hooked lanky legs with the crook of her arm, grunting as she raised them up and wedged the footrest underneath. Yet his disgruntled expression remained, to her consternation.

"What, no pillow?"

"Sorry, Edm-"

" _King_ Edmund!"

"Sorry, King Edmund. Shall I fetch you one?"

"Yes, and fluff it good."

Lucy retrieved one from the far end of the settee, punching it to maximum fluffiness before stuffing it under her brother's feet.

"That's better," he said, sighing, without even a 'thank you.' _Ingrate._ "Now take off my shoes." She untied the laces, slid the pair of loafers off, and set them beside the ottoman. " _And_ my socks."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to touch your sweaty old socks."

"Don't get cross with me!"

"I'm not -"

"Shut up! I didn't ask you to talk; I asked you to remove my socks. _Now do it!"_ he snapped, thrusting his foot toward her; Lucy flinched. Begrudgingly, she tugged off the right, then the left. He pressed the sole of his hot, clammy foot against her cheek, toes wiggling.

Lucy swatted it away, cringing, dragging her sleeve across her face as he cackled. " _Ew,_ Edmund! I don't want to play anymore!"

"That's unfortunate because the game isn't over until _I_ say so. And it's not. I'm famished; get me a sandwich." He waved her away like she was a nettlesome gnat.

"Yes, Edmund."

" _King!"_ The exclamation followed her into the kitchen.

He was scowling when she returned minutes later, and snatched the plate away from her. _What did I do this time?_ "No milk? What kind of servant are you? Do you want me to choke if food gets caught in my windpipe and there's nothing nearby to wash it down?"

 _Yes._ "No. I'll get you some milk." Once she turned her back to him, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. This "game" was one of Edmund's machinations for her to do his bidding. _You think you're so clever. Well, two can play at this game!_ Lips spreading into a devious grin _,_ Lucy hawked up the largest glob of phlegm she could muster and spat into the milk. Dipping her forefinger into it, she stirred, snickering, and wiped a trail of spit off her chin and mirth off her face as she carried the drink into the parlor.

"About time!" Edmund sat up, rubbing his hands before accepting it and taking a sip. "Tastes a bit thick." He smacked his lips, shrugging as he set it on the table before adverting to the sandwich on his lap.

He spat it out after the first bite. "No, no, _no!_ It's all wrong. This sandwich is falling apart. I want the ham, the cheese, _then_ lettuce with the tomatoes on top. You should be ashamed for putting out such an inferior product. Fix it!" He shoved it toward Lucy so forcefully she would have been wearing it were her hands not there to catch it. He feigned interest in his nails, then glowered up at her when she didn't budge. "Are you deaf, as well as stupid? _Go!_ "

Lucy blinked, unfazed by the histrionics, and complied without question. "Okay." She set the plate on the kitchen counter to rearrange the ingredients to her brother's liking. Her nose twitched. _"ACHOO!"_ The explosive sneeze expelled a thick rope of snot from her nose that she smeared onto the ham. She returned to the parlor grinning, cheeks aching and twitching from the effort. "Here you go, King Edmund."

Edmund tore into it, his head bobbing in approval. "Tastes a bit salty but it will suffice. Good job."

"Thank you." Beaming, she curtsied. "I added a _special ingredient_ to make sure the sandwich didn't fall apart."

He offered her his half-eaten sandwich. "Would you like some?"

Lucy vigorously shook her head, backing away, hands raised. "Oh, no, I want you to enjoy _all_ of it."

He smirked. "Good. I wasn't going to give you none anyway." His lunch disappeared within two voracious bites and a swig of milk. "Here." He thrust the empty glass and plate toward her. "You may eat the crumbs, if you wish."

"Okay."

Edmund gasped, deeply aggrieved. "No 'thank you?' You're such an ingrate. You should thank me for my generosity."

She crumpled to her knees and clasped her hands before her. "Oh, King Edmund, I am most grateful!"

"That's the spirit. Now, I'm ready for dessert: a slice of Mum's chocolate cake, if you will."

Gasping, Lucy sprung to her feet, eyes widening. "Mum will be livid if she finds out you ate sweets before dinner!"

Edmund snorted. "Do I look like I care?"

 _No._ The barb rolled off her as she gathered dirty dishes. "Would you like more milk with that?"

He screwed up his face at the absurdity of her question. "What else?"

"I'll be right back."

"You know where I'll be." He yawned and stretched, crossing his ankles, closing his eyes, and interlacing his fingers behind his head. Lucy stuck her tongue at him and spun on her heel toward the bathroom. Dragging a stool out from under the sink, she mounted it, opening the medicine cabinet. She rifled through the contents, a toothy grin splitting her face when she espied a blue bottle in the corner. _Just what I was looking for._ Uncapping it, she poured what exceeded the recommended dose tenfold before replacing it. Once in the kitchen, she emptied the last of the milk into the glass and sliced her brother a dense wedge of cake.

"You've really become quite good at this," he said as Lucy served dessert. "We should play more often."

She grinned. "Agreed." Once Edmund inhaled the food - eating every crumb and draining the glass till the last drop - she asked, "Anything else I can do for you, King Edmund?"

"I'm going to take a nap now. Don't disturb me." He swung his legs off the ottoman and curled onto the couch. "Make yourself scarce."

"Okay."

With the dishes washed and Edmund appeased, Lucy went upstairs and idled in her room, waiting for her plan to come to full fruition.

* * *

She had just finished up in the bathroom when someone jostled the knob from the other side. "Open up!" came the muffled demand.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Lucy hoped he hadn't heard the smile in her voice. Once she dried her hands, she opened the door to find Edmund doubled over, clutching his middle.

"Everything alright, King Edmund?" Her brother was in too much agony to notice her poorly-suppressed smile.

"My stomach is killing me!"

She smirked. _"That's unfortunate."_

He glared. "Lucy, _MOVE!"_

She planted herself at the threshold, barring the way. If Edmund wanted to risk it, he _could_ run to the other one upstairs, but she doubted he'd make it in time.

"What's the magic word?"

 _"PLEASE!_ Lucy, have mercy!" He bounced from foot to foot, sweat running in rivulets. He tried shoving her aside to no avail; her strength belied her diminutive frame. "I'm about to go all over myself."

"Say the game is over!"

He looked up, frowning. "What?"

 _"Say it!"_

"Alright! Game over! Game over! Please, let me through!" he cried.

"And promise me next time we'll play _queen_ and servant."

He nodded vigorously, on the verge of tears. "Yes! Yes! Anything you want!"

Lucy stepped aside. _"Good."_

Ten minutes later, Edmund walked gingerly into the parlor.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

Wincing, he rubbed his belly. "Can't. My arse is on fire. Must've been something I ate...Was it the milk?"

She crossed her arms. "Yes, Edmund, it was the milk... _of magnesia!_ " She burst into giggles.

He glared at her, his hands clenching into fists. _If looks could kill..._ "You deliberately gave me the runs? I'm going to - _ugh!"_ He lunged toward her then stopped, incapacitated by another cramp.

Lucy collapsed onto the couch in hysterics as he fled down the hall.

 _The End_

* * *

 **A/N:** This was inspired by one of our favorite childhood shows, _My Wife and Kids._ Thanks for reading, and we hope you enjoyed it. Please let us know what you think. Also, if you're on tumblr, please follow us at **dreamgirl-skysurfer523** and we'll follow you back!


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